Date: Sat, 13 Dec 2003 14:49:36 -0800 (PST)
From: Bob Archman
Subject: 'Twas the Night Before Christmas 1
'Twas the Night Before Christmas
Part 1
By Bald Hairy Man
Email, bldhrymn@excite.com or bldhrymn@aol.com
This is an adult story for adults. It is not intended for minors, nor for
persons who are offended by alternate life styles. If you don't like this
sort of thing DON"T READ it.
Parrishtown is one of those strange places which appear only on maps, but
no longer physically exist. Around 1810 Parrishtown was a small but
thriving town, by the 1820s it had almost 1,000 inhabitants. The 1860s
weren't very good, and by 1900 the town had disappeared. In the 1920s a New
York State highway department put it on a map, more to fill in an empty
spot in the map, than for any other reason. Once it was there, it stayed.
Parrishtown consisted of my parents' house and their garage. Dad decided to
retire there in the later part of 1970 because he got the house for a good
price. The house is a jewel of early 19th century North Country
architecture, simple, handsome and well built. He and my mom loved the
place and restored it to its original state. I was in college when they
bought the house, so I never lived in it, but it was good for them.
Dad, Robert Ashton, was a very successful accountant who had no interest in
anything other than numbers. When he retired he was lost until he found
the house. It gave him and my mother a hobby. They came to love the place
and Dad eventually published a small book on the architecture of the
region. They both made it to the late 1990s before bad health struck.
They went to a home. Mom died eight years ago and Dad died earlier this
year.
I'm Robert Ashton, Jr. I had just retired after working in South America
and the Far East for most of my life. I had a good salary, but since I was
a workaholic, all of my income was either in the bank, or well invested.
At 56 I was shocked to realize I was a wealthy man. Since I was away, all
of the care of my parents was done by my sister. She didn't like the
house, so she inherited our parents' stocks and cash, which was
considerable; I got the house. That only seemed fair to me. I had no idea
what to do with myself after I retired, so I went to Parrishtown to close
up the place and get it ready for sale.
Fortunately for me, my parents had a handyman named Ralph who took care of
the house while they were in the home. He lived above the garage. When I
got to the house in late December, I discovered the house was in near
perfect condition. Ralph was retired and had nothing to do but fix
things. Anyone who owns an old house knows there is always a lot to do and
Ralph did it all.
Parrishtown was north of Syracuse and east of Watertown, a few miles off of
I 81. Anyone familiar with New York State knows that pretty well defines
the middle of nowhere and I mean nowhere. I-81 in this area crosses a flat,
featureless plain. It is boring and uninteresting, unless it is
snowing. When it's snowing, 81 becomes a dangerous and treacherous road.
There are no trees or hills to slow winds and drifts can mount up with
remarkable speed. It gets closed with great regularity. On the 23rd of
December the area was enveloped in a major storm. The highways had been
closed.
That evening, the snow was heavy and the wind was rising when I heard a
knocking at my door. I opened it and found a parka enshrouded face looking
at me. He had blue eyes and a red beard, I couldn't see much else.
"I'm sorry, I'm looking for Parrishtown? I seem to have lost my way," he
said.
"You've found it," I said. "This is all there is."
"You're kidding! I'm looking for a motel," he said.
"The nearest motel is fifteen miles away in Watertown," I said, then I told
him how to get there. He was in a white van. He said he was bad about
directions, so I went out to the car and gave the instructions to one of
his passengers. The van had Virginia plates and I guessed they weren't
familiar with driving in the snow.
As they drove off a huge gust of wind came up and blew the van into a ditch
and turned it on its side. I raced over and got everyone out of the van.
No one was hurt, but it wasn't possible to guess if the van was damaged.
There were four men in the van and they got some things out of the back and
then trooped to my house. I called the State Police, but they said to call
back after Christmas. It was a huge storm and they weren't responding to
anything without injuries.
I called the nearest local service station and was told the same thing.
"If you're not bleeding, we're not coming," I was told. They also told me,
drifts had closed most of the roads and it was too dangerous to get on the
road for any reason short of a life or death situation. I gave the bad
news to the men in the van. They would be spending Christmas with me.
There was no way to get out. There was a flurry of cell phone calls as
they called friends and family.
The men were out of their parkas and coats and looked like human
beings. Actually, two of them looked like human beings; two were a bit
marginal. Chuck, the driver was a slim, bald, bearded man in a flannel
shirt and jeans. The man who was riding shotgun, Lou, was a banker and
looked the part.
Freddy was a florist and was what could only be called a flaming faggot.
He was diminutive, lisped, swished and affected Hawaiian shirts as well as
lots of jewelry. The fourth member of the group, Bruiser, was clad in
leather. He was pierced and his face snarled. I wasn't looking forward to
this Christmas at all.
The odd combination of men was soon explained. They had been to a wedding
of two of their friends in Toronto. The Groom and Groom had apparently
thought a winter wedding in Canada would hit the spot, apparently oblivious
to the problems of travel in the winter.
I was short of food, but that wasn't a problem. The van was filled with
food from the wedding and Freddy fetched it and contributed it to the pot.
The men weren't happy about the situation but most dealt with it. Bruiser
was the only one who was surly and unhappy. That changed when Ralph
appeared. Ralph is a 60 year old bear like man, with a big white beard.
He brought wood for the fireplace and said he was going to chop up more.
He wanted some extra in case we lost electricity.
He hadn't seen the van in the ditch, but didn't seem surprised we had
visitors. "You'd be surprised how many travelers have spent some time
here," he said. "People get off the highway and expect to find some sort
of a town here. Your Dad tried to get them to take down the sign, but had
no luck. Changing the Highway Department must take an act of God." As he
prepared to go out into the storm again, Bruiser offered to help and the
two men left.
Chuck and Freddy, the florist, liked the house and knew a lot about
antiques. When I say they knew a lot, I mean they had encyclopedic
knowledge and were really helpful to me. I had been planning to have an
auction, but they knew the value of most of the stuff and knew where I
could get the best price for it.
I had been thinking several things were worth hundreds of dollars. I was
off by a factor of ten; Several, rather simple looking pieces of furniture
they said were museum quality and might easily be worth thousands. I had
to admit this information made me warm considerably to the men, especially
Freddy.
It was getting late, so I prepared dinner. I am not much of a cook, but
both Lou and Freddy were. Somehow, when we all sat down for dinner, it was
a gourmet style meal. It wasn't exactly fancy, but it was the best meal I
had eaten in years. They also had a good supply of wine in the van and
that eased the social situation considerably.
The conversation was easy and pleasant. The men had a good sense of humor
and were good company. Ralph joined us for dinner and told us of all his
"stranded in the storm" stories. There had been many visitors to the house
through the years including the Governor and some high ranking officials, a
group of mafiosi and a high school hockey team. I had been unaware of all
of this; Dad had never mentioned it in his letters.
I had been working abroad for twenty years. I was unattached. My
specialty was resolving problems in complex construction projects, big
projects like hydroelectric dams and oil pipelines. If I was on a job
there was a big problem. I'm the kind of guy who can spend 18 hours a day
working on it. It may sound boring, but I like the challenge of arriving
at solution for completely screwed up project and leaving three or four
years later with the project complete and functioning.
I'm 6'-1" and 220 pounds of firm, but not very stylish flesh. My social
life has been nonexistent and my sex life was limited. I lived and worked
in pretty much an all male world. That was fine with me. I had been
briefly married in my later 20s, but that hadn't been a success. I had a
trip or two to the wild side, but I wasn't attracted to prostitutes at all
and I didn't find boys or effeminate men interesting either.
My only attachment was to a Saudi engineer I worked with in the Mid-East.
Ahmed was handsome, fun and good in bed. About the time the project was
completed, his father died and he had to return home to help his family.
He was the only male in the family and his mother and sisters were lost
without a man to protect them. He married and we never got together again.
That episode was as close to a hot and heavy relationship I had ever
experienced.
Lou and Chuck cleaned up the dishes as the conversation flowed. I
mentioned my parent's Christmas decorations were in the attic. I took
Freddy up there to look them over. He wanted to decorate and I had enough
to drink to say fine. We brought them downstairs and Ralph said he had a
Christmas tree. He had a job selling trees and had been given one, that he
hadn't had time to put up. He and Bruiser brought it in.
"It's not much of a tree." I said when I saw it. The tree was misshapen
and lopsided.
"Honey, I'm a fucking florist!" Freddy said. "Believe me, I can work magic
on that pathetic escapee from a forest. Leave it to me." For the next
hour we worked at getting the thing to stand up. When I said it was
lopsided, I didn't not exaggerate. It turned into a "Three Stooges Put up
a Christmas Tree" routine. The wine made it into a fun experience.
It was late by the time the tree was up, so we decided to decorate it the
next morning. The house had three bedrooms, a master bedroom with a big
bath and two smaller rooms. Each hand a full bed except for the queen
sized four poster in the master bedroom. I took one of the smaller
bedrooms and let then men fight over the others. I soon realized the men
were friends, but not lovers or playmates. I let them figure out the
sleeping arrangements. All was well until I heard a knock at the door.
Ralph answered it and found two UPS men shivering in the cold. One, Guy,
was the man who regularly served the area. He delivered things to Ralph
regularly. The other was a new guy on the route, Sean. They had been
caught getting back from deliveries in Alexandria Bay. It had been a five
hour drive to cover the 35 miles. They were almost out of gas.
Five men in three beds wasn't much of a problem, seven was more
complicated. Ralph offered to take one of the men to his room above the
garage. Bruiser jumped at the opportunity. He seemed to have hit it off
with Ralph. I got Chuck to share the master bedroom with me; the UPS men
took a room and Lou and Freddy had the remaining room.
There had been four bedrooms originally, but Dad and Mom took one and made
it into a master bath and dressing room. They restored their bath with a
claw footed tub and period fixtures, but had a walk in shower in what
looked like a closet. This was Dad's room and he designed it with a steam
machine. He had a back problem and the machine helped.
I took a shower. Ralph told me to always run the hot water before going to
bed on cold nights. It heated up the pipes and helped protect them from
freezing. Chuck was brushing his teeth when I got out. He was wearing
only jockey shorts. He was bald and bearded; while every hair was in place
on his head, the same couldn't be said his body. He had a thick coat of
red hair from a shaved line on his neck to his toes.
He saw me in the mirror. "Aren't you the hairy one," he said.
"Looks to me you are a touch furry yourself," I replied. I have a
breastplate of hair which connects to my pubic hair in a treasure trail.
My chest hair covers my shoulders too, but I was smooth compared to Chuck.
"It came from my Mom's brothers; they both look like chimpanzees," he said.
I finished drying off and went to bed. I was tired and the second my head
touched the pillow, I was asleep. I woke at 6:00, turned over and rolled
onto Chuck, who I had forgotten was in bed with me.
"Sorry, I forgot you were there," I said.
He mumbled, "No problem." He didn't seem to actually wake up.
I went to the bathroom and then returned to bed. When I woke the next
time, Chuck was stroking my chest hair with his hand. It felt good, so I
just stayed still.
He knew I was awake, so he snuggled closer. His body hair was in contact
with mine and it felt good. I think I dozed off again. When I woke the
next time, he was closer, but only his body hair touched, except for a tube
resting on my ass crack. I have furry cheeks and my Saudi friend liked
rubbing his cock on them. Chuck wasn't rubbing, just resting.
I moved a little. Chuck jumped back.
"Sorry, got carried away," he said. "I meant no harm."
"No problem, it felt good," I said. "You don't need to stop." He returned
his hand, gently stoking my chest hair again. I scooted back a bit and
felt his body and his cock. He rubbed it in my fur-covered crack. His
hand was following the treasure trail when he encountered my cock earlier
than he expected. I was the hardest I had been in years.
"Damn," he said, "you may have guessed I get turned on by hairy men."
Chuck stroked my cock. "Is this as thick as it feels?" I turned over onto
my back.
"It's a mouthful, I've been told," I said.
"Let me be the judge of that," Chuck said as he rotated in the bed and took
my cock in his mouth. I am thick, but he got it all in his mouth without
effort. His cock was in easy reach of my mouth, so I figured, what the
hell and swallowed him.
Ahmed and I 69ed many times, although usually he ended up impaled on my
cock squirming in ecstasy. I had missed him, just how much I realized as
Chuck's cock slipped down my throat. Chuck, like Ahmed was a perfect fit.
I licked and sucked for a while and soon got Chuck's juices flowing.
"You're ripe. Ready to go for the gold?" he asked. I deep-throated his
cock and he did the same for me. His finger touched my ass hole. My balls
all but exploded. That didn't bother Chuck at all. I hadn't had an orgasm
like that in years.
Unfortunately, after I shoot I loose all interest in sex for ten to twenty
minutes. I released Chuck's cock and lay back, exhausted.
"Let me help you out there,"a voice said. It was Guy, our regular UPS man.
I saw the bedroom door had been cracked and he apparently was watching and
decided to join in. He stripped off his brown uniform and began sucking
Chuck where I had left off. I was too tired to pay much attention but I
knew Guy wasn't new to cock sucking. He both got Chuck off and hit it off
with the red-haired man.
Guy was heavily tanned and looked like a runner. His chest was toned and
muscular, dusted with bleached blond hair. He also had a long thin cock
which still needed attention after he got Chuck off. By that time my
sexual urges had came back and I licked it when it came within reach. Guy
moved closer to me so I could suck him properly.
"I can't believe this," Guy murmured. "I come by for one of Ralph's
special blow jobs and I hit the mother load! This is going to be great!"